Ruins
by Laylania
Summary: War is an unbelieveable monstrosity that tears through what was once loved and destroys all that was once believed in. AU


**Authoress Notes: **Blame watching Metal Gear tributes plus watching sibs play Call of Duty: Modern Warfare. Plus the fact that I'm on a Gundam 00 kick and...you get this. -waves hand-

**Claim:** I own Aina. Interpret her name to be pronounced as you wish.

**Disclaim: **I don't own the assault weapons listed in this story, nor do I own anything that sounds familiar. XD I do, however, own this alternate universe plot from the crackish, disturbed depths of my brain. :D

_Ruins_

_001_

Ducking down, he could feel the spray of bullets hit the concrete wall that blocked him from view, panting as he clutched his 7.62x39 Type 81-1 assault rifle to his chest, as if it were the only weapon and object that he could place his trust in. The weapon had never failed him before, and he was hoping to whatever presence there may have been in the orange-tinted sky that it wouldn't now.

There were cries that bounced off broken buildings and shattered walls that served as impromptu shields against the waves of heavy bullets that wouldn't hesitate to sink into the flesh of a soldier caught unaware. He gritted his teeth at the thought of his fallen comerades, pressing back the tears. They would have to be shed another time, because he certainly wasn't going to risk it here.

There was a mutter of something unintelligible, and the boy tensed out of reflex, his index finger inching towards the trigger of his weapon as he swung himself up, crouching with a fierce glare set onto his features as the dirt dusted black barrel of his weapon pointed at the face of the person who had dared to approach him.

"Whoa, kid!" Hands held up in a manner that meant to be taken as surrender, the picture was distorted by the Tavor CTAR 21 rifle he held in his hand, criss-crossing rows of bullets slapped across his chest. "Relax, it's me."

"Commander Stratos..." The name of the man before him fell from his lips, and the glare softened into something more open, but only by a slight inch as he lowered his gun, and the officer before him did so as well, easy-going smile on his lips that betrayed the worry in his blue eyes.

"The soldiers in the east are dead," he said, voice firm and stoic as he mentioned the falling of the soldiers beneath him, though the furrowing of his brow spoke volumes about the sorrow that had built within him and was barred from the outside world seeing it. As a ranking officer, he wasn't allowed to show such weakness, especially not when they were still out on the battlefield.

_'No,'_ Neil reminded himself strongly, his eyes sweeping across the damaged land and dry, caked ground that had been stained with the blood of his friends and enemies alike, _'this is no battlefield. It's a graveyard.'_

Bodies of the fallen lay here, and they would never get a proper burial. At least, not until the cover of night, when the hailstorm of bullets was avoided as the opposing side reorganized. His eyes scoped back to the teen standing beside him, a head smaller than he with fluffy black hair that swung dangerously close to deep, impassive copper eyes.

Tanned skin boasted that he was familiar with the territory that had become their main battlefield, though he didn't show any signs of remorse or affection for this God-forsaken area.

"Soran," he spoke, and he paused upon the light glare that settled upon the younger boy's features and he hastily corrected himself, "Setsuna. We're heading back, alright?"

Setsuna blinked, and a quick glance at the skyline proved that night was fast approaching, navy swirls of ink introducing themselves to the sunset tinge of the horizon that was punctuated by the bulky base in the distance that was the equivalent of home, for now.

"Alright," he agreed easily in his normal tone of indifference. He had long forsaken his emotions to be spilt at a different time in solitude, not in front of anyone else but himself and a God he didn't believe in. If there was a God, he wouldn't allow this to happen. He trailed after Neil at a slower pace, picking his way around fallen guns and destroyed machinery.

Blood stained the ground, wet and definately fresh as he pushed back his revulsion at the sight and turned away before his stomach could twist and spray his hasty lunch onto the ground at his feet. His standard combat boots were caked with dust and mud that came off in crusted, light brown clumps with each step he took.

"Setsuna, get down!" The sharp cry from Neil startled him as he was jerked down behind the last standing corner of a house, the remaining window shattering as a spray of bullets hit it. Neil cursed and lifted his weapon, only to pause as the whistle of something heavier sailed through the air and connected with the ground that rumbled with the impact as a plume of dark ceray smoke curled towards the sky.

No noise, no whirring of machinery or cries to regroup. It had gone as silent as the graveyard that this land was quickly becoming, and both males lifted their heads up to inspect the damage. A small crater marked the place where the enemy had been, now disembodied hands and legs and trinkets of twisted metal, still hot to the touch.

Footsteps rasped against the dusty earth, and both sets of eyes snapped towards the owner who came to a stop. Hefting what looked like a Tavor TAR-21 rifle over a narrow shoulder that had been clad in the navy green that they also wore with the crest of their side emblazened upon the fabric with gold filigree, the girl cocked a hip out to the side and rested a gloved hand upon it.

"Are you alright?" she inquired, the question meant for the both of them. Light caramel hair was pulled away from her face into a tight ponytail, turtleshell helmet hanging from around her neck as she observed them with eyes that swirled in a mixture of blue and silver that ringed the pupils. Her cheekbones, rather defined for a girl, were covered in a thin film of grit and grime, and there were smudges of dark black grease on her face as well.

Clearly, as identified by her garb, she was a soldier as well.

"We're fine," answered Neil, and he stood slowly, Setsuna following his lead. "And you are?"

As if given an order, the girl snapped to attention, her weapon cradled against her body as she saluted crisply, head tilted as she answered, "Aina of the West Squad, Commander Stratos, sir!"

Neil observed her, trying to match her face to the Squad she belonged to. And then, like a flickering fragment of film, her face appeared with the other turtleshell helmeted ones of that squad, her face clean rather than it's dirtied appearance now. He eased up, and he inquired,

"Where's the rest of your Squad?"

Aina looked uncomfortable, and her bottom lip twisted and tucked under her teeth as she focused on a piece of rubble to the right of her foot. "They're either dead or MIA, sir. None of them would reply over the transmission line."

She fiddled with her black walkie-talkie that had been strapped to her baggy camo pants like a belt, switching it on and holding it up. "Do you want me to tell Base we're heading back?"

"Yes," answered Neil, and they began to walk as Aina pressed the button and spoke into the little device. It was silent for a few moments until static crackled and a distorted voice that was still someone readable as they responded,

"Copy that. A-re you woun-ded?"

The question was choppy and shot, though still audible. There was a glance shared between the three of them before Setsuna reached out and plucked the communication device from Aina's hand and replied,

"No."

The transmission ended, and they continued the silent way back. The fighting had died down for the day, and in the distance, machinery rumbled and vibrations traveled through the ground. Aina skirted around rubble and body parts that had been strewn grotesquely along the ground like twisted ornaments, failing to keep the revulsion off her face.

This was a testament to the battle they were fighting.

Pausing, she turned around and scanned the grounds before turning and trotting back to rejoin her Commander and fellow soldier.


End file.
